Chapter 1

She was my mom.

But the way she looked at me was like she was staring at something monstrous. Like I should never have existed.

I earned the highest scholarship. Everyone else clapped, cheered, and envied. But she just stared, like I was something dirty.

The only time she smiled was when I handed her the prize money, and even then, it barely reached her eyes.

The better I did, the more she seemed to despise me.

Her cold, accusing gaze made me feel like even the sound of my breathing was an unforgivable offense.

Then one day, I stumbled across a locked drawer she'd forgotten to shut. Inside was an old photograph.

She was smiling tenderly, cradling a child who wasn't me.

And that was when I understood. Maybe I was never supposed to be here at all.

*****

Mom had never liked me. Not since I was a kid, not ever.

Ever since kindergarten, I fought to top every exam, not for the grades, but to prove to Mom I was worth loving. After all, I'd heard other parents say they loved smart kids.

I believed that as long as I was smart and got good grades, Mom would praise me.

But for me, none of that was true.

Whenever I proudly handed Mom my first-place report card, she looked at me with nothing but disgust, like I was her biggest disappointment.

I just didn't get it. What did I do wrong?

However, come to think of it, Mom had always treated me this way since I was a child.

Her coldness toward me wasn't anything new.

I couldn't get mad at her. She was my mom, after all.

She was probably too tired and needed an extra pair of hands.

My family ran a fish shop, though business was nothing special. Dad was a long-haul truck driver, so he was hardly ever home.

As soon as school was over, I would rush to the shop to help Mom out.

To ease her burden, I even learned how to gut fish, removing all the innards cleanly.

Even the customers would often praise me.

One of them smiled and said, "You're such a capable girl. If my daughter were even half as sensible, I'd consider myself lucky."

All my life, the only praise I ever got came from strangers.

Still, I couldn't help but smile.

After handing the fish to the customer, I caught Mom in the corner of my eye. She was cleaning vegetables while shooting me that familiar cold glare.

I honestly didn't get it.

What did I ever do to make Mom despise me so much?

Later, I convinced myself it was all because we were poor.

Mom must have been so unhappy just because we never had enough money.

I believed that if I could grow up and earn enough to free Mom from that damp, reeking fish shop, maybe she'd finally be happy.

So I threw myself into my studies.

In middle school alone, I earned more than 10 thousand dollars through scholarships and competitions.

I handed every cent to Mom.

But still, not even a hint of a smile crossed her face.

Instead of praise, all I got was her glare and a sharp warning. "You'd better not have cheated to earn this. If you did, I'll skin you alive."

I almost burst into tears right then and there.

The pain of her distrust, the sting of being falsely accused—it was just too much.

I promised Mom, "I swear, I didn't cheat. I earned all of this on my own."

Mom counted the money, shot me a cold glare, and snapped, "You think this little bit is a lot? I've spent ten times more raising you."

See? Mom was just bitter because we were poor.

It was not because I wasn't good enough.

I looked at Mom and said with confidence, "Don't worry. I know I can get into the prestigious high school in Delsphere."

Once I got into that prestigious high school, I would study hard, get into a top university, and someday make loads of money to buy my parents a proper house.

But there was one thing I never saw coming.

Mom burned my acceptance letter.

I was the top scorer, accepted into one of the best high schools, but I didn't even know.

I only found out when the teachers and principal came to our house.

They asked Mom to reconsider, promising free tuition and merit-based scholarships.

But Mom turned them away and chased them out like a madwoman, as if terrified I would have anything to do with them.

That led to an argument between Mom and me.

For the first time ever, I voiced all the resentment I'd been bottling up.

"Why won't you let me go to school, Mom?" I demanded.

Mom shot back, "I never said you couldn't go to school."

I was stunned. "Then why did you..."

Before I could even finish, Mom cut me off like she'd already rehearsed it all. "Prestigious high school? What a joke. You'll end up in some dead-end job no matter what."

There wasn't a trace of guilt on her face.

"You're going to that vocational school across the street from the prestigious high school," she barked. "At least you'll learn something useful. That's way better than chasing some worthless dream."

"Vocational school?" I gasped, utterly stunned.

"I've already enrolled you and picked your major. You'll study nursing. Being a nurse isn't a bad career," she said matter-of-factly, but those were her plans, not mine.

Choking back tears, I shot back, "How could you? Did you ever even ask what I wanted?"

That question, however, clearly struck a nerve.

"Ask you? Why the hell should I ask you?" Mom lashed out, her voice dripping with disdain. "I've already done more than enough by putting you through school. And you expect me to ask for your opinion? What difference does it make where you go to school?"

"But only people from top schools succeed," I cried, trying desperately to reason with her. "How else am I supposed to rise above the rest?"

Tears of hurt slowly trickled down my face, and I thought she'd finally show me some compassion.

But all I saw was the deep-seated contempt in her eyes, radiating from her very soul.

Mom sneered. "You? Dream on. This is as good as your life is ever going to get. You think you can make it big? Know your place. You're just not cut out for that kind of life, so give up. No matter how hard you try, you'll never beat those born lucky."

Her words echoed in my ears, tightening around my neck like a noose woven from damnation.

I couldn't breathe.

For years, I tried to understand what had turned Mom into the person she was.

It wasn't until later that I realized she was only ever like that with me.

Her expression would darken the moment she saw me, like I was something she wished didn't exist.